


Favor

by rawdudebro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, Post-The Blood of Olympus, also i havent read hidden oracle, but this is for my gf so it might actually get finished, i have like ten wips, set in harry potter book 4, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawdudebro/pseuds/rawdudebro
Summary: Nico's current problem, like most of his recent problems, stems from his inability to stop snooping about the underworld.He runs into Hecate, but she's actually kind of alright? Maybe? He thinks she likes him too? Enough to share her secret magic world, at least.Summary sucks, but oh well, whatcha gon do?





	1. Prologue

His current problem, like most of his recent problems, stems from his inability to stop snooping about the underworld. Hades had told him to stop. Midas had told him to stop. Hell, that time he ventured into the Egyptian side (things were sparkly and weird), Anubis told him to stop. You’d think he’d have learned, what with falling straight into Tartarus that one time (shivers run up his spine if he gets too close, sometimes he wakes up screaming), but no. When his father kicks him out of the throne room, he does not go straight to his room without passing go or collecting $200. He instead meanders down the hazy dirt path that had not been there a few hours ago, or even a few minutes ago, he thinks. 

The path itself is hard to focus on, doubly so it’s surroundings, but he pushes on, making sure to put one foot directly in front of the other (left-right-left-right). He’s a little lost, but he figures he can turn tail and walk back the way he came if he wants. If nothing else, he can always shadow travel away. Truthfully, this part of the underworld was so shrouded in shapeless, formless mist that he wasn’t sure if he was even in the underworld anymore. He walks, shuffles really, down the dark path that lacks any twists or turns or borders or ends. It’s a little like floating, Nico thinks. The fog cuts around him in smooth, unpredictable patterns, though no wind blew past to shape them. 

What seems like an endless hike pays off when a torch cuts through the enveloping mist, and as he approaches it, another. The light cast flickers over the form of an uneven rock path, which solidifies under his feet as he notices stone walls around him. Had those always been there? Maybe. Nevertheless, he pushes deeper into the stone hallway. Now that there is around him, his curiosity is piqued once again. 

The walls around him open into a large cavernous room, lined with bookshelves and tabletops adorned with all sorts of trinkets and oddities. He peers around the room, shuffling closer to the center as a form solidifies near the wall. Nico pays it no mind, sees no reason to, until it’s completely shaped. Then, with a sense that he’s being snapped back into awareness from a trance he hadn’t known he’d been in, he jumps back from what is an elegant woman sitting in an equally elegant velvet chair. 

She sets off Nico’s internal alarms like nothing else. She’s lounging, ruby red lips pursed in an unamused shape, and bony fingers tap long nails against a wine glass. Nico moves to step backwards, but the entrance to the room seems to have disappeared. He can’t see it. He can’t get out. He can’t- He-

“None of that, child.” She swirls the dark red wine and takes a sip, “Come closer.” 

With a start he stumbles closer and onto his knees in what is a hasty and probably ugly kneel. The dirt digs into his knees where his jeans have long rips, and it’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t dare to rise. 

“Lady.” He greets, and hopes it’s enough not to piss her off. He doesn’t recognize this goddess, but he may be able to play it like he does. 

Much to his surprise, she scoffs an introduction, “Hecate.” 

There’s a tense silence as Nico’s head runs through a variety of swears, each passing second rising more alarm in the young demigod. She wouldn’t smite him, would she? Being a son of Hades afforded him certain privileges, like the weight of his father's potential reaction to his potential smiting. Even if she doesn’t, there are other ways a god can make a demigods life hell, and he did not want to owe Hecate a favor, not with her reputation as being bitter and ruthless. 

“I’m sorry,” He begins to apologize, but is cut off when Hecate sighs and shakes her head. A rodent of some sort scampers up to him, sticking its wet nose against Nico’s face as he recoils back. It sniffs him twice, farts twice, and scurries away into the hazy corners of the room where the mist swirled in thick, smoky columns. 

“I am not surprised you do not know who I am. Nor am I angry.” She takes a long drink from her glass, and continues, “Disappointed, perhaps, that you intrude upon my space without the proper knowledge.” 

Her nails, long and painted immaculately black, tap against the glass cup, each ting-ting echoing through the space between them. 

“I did not mean to intrude, Lady Hecate. I can leave, if you’d like.” He propositions, though what he wanted to say was ‘if you’d let me’. Really, he loathed to be like this: on his knees, spitting respect through his teeth to gods he can’t quite call benevolent (apathetic and callous at best). It leaves him feeling ripped raw, and simmering in anger. 

“You may stay or go as you wish.” She replies. “And do not feel the need to remain kneeling. I do not care for such frivolities.” 

He scrambles to his feet, hastily brushing dirt off his knees as he goes. Confusion reigns through him. She was not only letting him go, but letting him choose. He stares up at her, questions on his lips, but Hecate seems to have conjured a book, and she pays him no mind. Se remains just as disinterested as he strides to the archway that had reappeared. He pauses, once, to look back, but Hecate did not seem to notice or care that he did. She merely flipped the page on her book and took another swing of wine. Pale neck bobbing as she swallows. She does not look up, even to thread her fingers through the fur of a dog laying at her feet. With that, he takes three steps outside the doorway and catapults himself through the shadows.


	2. At Least For a Little While

Nico is mildly confused to find himself on the shaded porch of the big house. He stumbles out of the corner, worn wooden planks squeaking underneath his sneakers, which kick up clouds of dust that had been in his treads. He wasn’t confused on how he got there, just why he did. He sort of flung himself through the shadows without a specific destination in mind, just that he wanted out. He was confused, and hesitant to stick around in case Hecate changed her mind about smiting him. In the past when he’d done that, usually, he ended up in indonesia, or his room in the underworld. But here he was, clenching his fists around the faded blue bannister of the big house, paint flaking under his tight grip. He coughs twice, to clear his throat, and shakes his head. 

It’s hot here in New York. Enough that he’s sweating already. The humid air pressed down on him in a way that the crisp cool air of the underworld never had (at least, the parts of the underworld he liked to be in, the parts that didn’t glow red, the parts that didn’t pulse underneath him, alive and uncontrollable). The air chokes him, and he finds himself sharply heaving, so he takes a deep breath, to remind his lungs to do their damn job. Scattered across the valley, cabins sit nestled in an omega, a few new constructs going up. Demigods and Nymphs mill around the buildings. He thinks he spots the glint of Annabeth’s blonde hair near the bare bones of a structure, but it could just as easily be one of her siblings, or even an Apollo kid. No one seemed to have noticed him yet.

Behind him, the utterly annoying sound of someone sucking the last dregs of liquid from their glass through a straw sounds. Nico twitches around, not having realized someone was there. Leaning against the doorway, adorned with dark shaded sunglasses and a loose tank top, is Solace, grinning at him with those infuriating perfect teeth. 

“Hey Nico, glad to see you’re back in town.” He pushes off the doorway and holds the door open, clearly expecting Nico to follow him inside. Nico glares for a second, but the cool air conditioned air hits him, and he’s following Will inside.

“Dunno if I’m really ‘back in town’.” Nico mutters, watching Will’s curls bounce. Just his curls, really. (He’s not staring at the freckles smattered across Will’s bare shoulders, or admiring the way his biceps just look like that. He’s not.) Will takes a dreg from his empty drink glass once again, rattling around the ice a little. The open windows cut paths of light across the hallway, illuminating dust as they walk the familiar path to the infirmary. The carpets that cover half the floor are well worn, and Nico breathes in the homely scent that the big house seems to emit and finds its a little easier than before. 

Will peers back at him as he nudges the already cracked infirmary door the rest of the way open with his hip. He’s lost the sunglasses somewhere on the way here and his face is softer somehow as he says, “You should stay at least a few days. Get some rest. You look like hell.”

“Well,” Nico snorts, not even having to finish the sentence, because Will is already groaning disappointedly. 

Nico snickers, shoving his hands in the pockets of the loose grey jacket he raided from Reyna’s closet. He glances around as Will rummages through the supply cabinets. The place hasn’t really changed. Wide open windows let the light flood in, illuminating the homey space. The lavender shades are all pulled up, and have collected dust at the top. Bookshelves line one wall, adjacent to the wall where drapes hang between hospital beds. Multicolored blankets and quilts adorn them. One is partitioned off, but Will pays it no mind, so neither does Nico. He finds himself smoothing the feather patterned blanket that rested atop the bed Nico had stayed in during the Three Days. He wishes-

“Head’s up!” Will warns, tossing him a protein bar from a cardboard boxful. How long those had been in the infirmary was anyone’s guess, but Nico peeled back the aluminum and took a bite anyways. 

Will’s eyes flicker between him and the quilt with an unreadable expression before turning to rummage through the cabinets once again. There’s a desk in the corner that’s supposed to be his, but it mostly collects dust. Nico had used it during his stay, had stashed several things in the drawers. He stoops over to look through the drawers, mostly to ascertain whether or not anybody had looked through his stuff or not, and when he stood back up, Will was fiddling nervously with the drakon bone letter opener that was sitting there. A soft sigh escaped Nico as he met Will’s eyes. 

Will’s hesitant hand extends and brushes an inky lock of hair from Nico’s face. Nico leans into the touch. Will’s hands are always so warm, marked by rough calluses and a few scattered freckles. He pulls forward as Will’s eyes flicker to his lips, and Nico closes the space between them, knotting one fist into Will’s loose shirt as the other reaches up and threads through his blonde curls. 

“Hey.” Will breaths softly as they break the kiss, it’s a soft sound, almost like a prayer. 

“Hi.” Nico answers, gaze low. 

“I missed you.” Will threads their fingers together, and Nico’s hands twitch tight. He doesn’t let go, even though his hands are sweaty and he feels tingly all over. 

“I, uh- I missed you, too.” Nico replies, quirking the corner of his mouth up. His face is flushed and pink, and he falls his free hand nervously on his thigh. Will’s answering smile is full force and blinding. 

“Stick around.” Will replies, easy and bright, “At least for awhile.”

“I…” Nico thinks for a minute. What would be so bad about sticking around? He wanted to talk to Lou Ellen, at the very least, and Camp had food and medical and a whole cabin just for him. “Okay.”


End file.
